


I Don't Want It...Or Maybe I Do.

by Flyingintospace



Series: Valentine's Day Ficlets [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingintospace/pseuds/Flyingintospace
Summary: Tuukka rejects a Valentines Card from Anton.





	1. Chapter 1

Tuukka jerked back in surprise as a red envelope appeared in front of his face as they were in the locker room after playing the Canadiens and about to begin their bye week.

He blinked up at his backup.

"What is this?" Tuukka asked, the locker room around him had went quiet.

"It's a card..." Anton swallowed before stammering out. "A Valentines card."

Tuukka's eyes narrowed at him. "I don't want it,"

"Oh...okay," Anton's voice was soft, as he turned and hurried away.

Before any of his team mates could protest, Tuukka grabbed his coat and headed for his car.

But he wasn't quick enough.

"Tuukks!" He heard Marchand call from behind him. He pondered just getting in his car and driving away without a second glance but instead looked back to see Marchand and Bergeron, of course, hurrying towards him.

"What?" He asked.

"What was that?" Marchand asked.

"I don't do Valentines Day." Tuukka answered.

"But Dobby does," Bergeron said.

Tuukka sighed. "And I'm sure that you two are here to tell me how I should have handle that differently."

Marchand grinned at him. "As a matter of fact," he said as the two of them each grabbed arm and drug him away from his car.

"That wasn't an invitation..." Tuukka tried to protest but they had stopped listening to him.

Valentines Day...

Tuukka tugged at the shiny pink tie around his neck. He couldn't believe he had let them talk him into this. Not that he had had much choice after all they were driving him to Anton's. "Don't you two have something better you could be doing?"

"Nope," Marchand grinned back at him.

"We have dinner reservations after we drop you off." Bergeron said.

"And how am I supposed to get home?" Tuukka asked.

"If everything goes well you won't have to," Marchand answered, his expression best described as leering.

Tuukka sighed, rubbing his face. The car pulled to a stop.

"Go on. Surprise him." Bergeron said.

Tuukka opened the backseat door, grabbing the flowers and box of chocolates that they had helped him pick out, straighten the jacket on his nicest suit.

"Have fun. Be nice," Marchand instructed him.

"Wait!" Bergeron said hurrying out of the car. The trunk was popped open and from it Bergeron pulled a picnic basket, a bottle of champagne poked out of the top. "This is from Dobby's favourite restaurant."

"Thank you," Tuukka took the basket.

"Now go," Bergeron said, giving him a small push.

So Tuukka headed up the walk, with each step his heart beginning to beat faster, palms beginning to sweat. He reached the front step setting the basket by his feet and taking a deep breath he rung the doorbell.

Moments later the door was opened by a surprised looking Anton.

"I'm sorry," Tuukka said, holding out a red envelope, almost as a peace offering.

Anton stared at the red envelope.

And then looked back up at Tuukka.

"I don't want it," Anton said softly and with that he closed the door on Tuukka's face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Think he'll be okay?" Patrice asked as they headed away from Anton's house. "Maybe we should have waited."

"Everything will be okay," Brad said. "How about you stop worrying about Tuukks and pay your date some attention?"

Patrice shook his head at Brad.

"You said we have dinner reservations," Brad said. "Where are we going?"

"That is a secret and you're just going to have to wait." Patrice replied.

"Can I guess?" Brad asked.

Patrice rolled his eyes but didn't even attempt to stop Brad.

"My guess is someplace romantic," Brad pondered. "So what about Harvest? I love their lobster."

Patrice stayed quiet, his face neutral.

"Hmmm, no huh. Well how about Oleana?" Brad tried. "It was very romantic last time we ate there in front of fireplace. Actually come to think of it, that's where we went on our first date, isn't it? Is that where we're going?"

"It is where we had our first date. I'm surprised you remember that." Patrice answered. "However not where we're going tonight."

Brad huffed out a sigh. "I remember things," he protested.

"You forgot my birthday last year," Patrice reminded.

Brad blushed and then returned to his guessing game. "How about Tangierino, tucked away in one of their cozy curtain draped booths sharing a creme brûlée at the end of the meal?"

Patrice laughed. "I'm beginning to think I should have let you plan tonight."

"You should have, course I wouldn't be withholding the location from you." Brad grinned at him.

"Of course you wouldn't," Patrice rolled his eyes.

"So I take it not there either?"

Patrice just grinned at him. "Still not telling you," Patrice answered.

Brad pouted. "McDonald's!" He declared.

Patrice burst out laughing. "You think I'm taking you to McDonald's for Valentines Day?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Brad shrugged. "Please tell me that we're not going to McDonald's..."

"We're not going to McDonald's," Patrice shook his head, he finally pulled into a parking garage and Brad realized that he had missed where they were.

"Now will you tell me?" Brad asked.

"No," Patrice said. "Now come on, we're just about going to be late."

"What no blindfold?" Brad asked, getting out of the car.

Patrice came around the car and he leaned closer to Brad's ear, hands on his shoulders. "No blindfold. But I could probably find a gag."

"Bergy!" Brad exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone else had heard, and Patrice could see he was turning red.

"Come on," he said, steering him towards the elevator, with a hand on his back.

By the time that he had pressed the button for the top floor of the skyscraper however Brad had returned to his normal self. "How did you manage to get reservations to The Hub?" Brad rambled. "And on Valentines?"

"I planned it." Patrice answered. "I remembered you saying that you had never been here. And what better time then Valentines?"

The elevator continued to rise and since they were alone, Brad pushed Patrice back against the wall of the elevator and pulled him into a kiss.

By the time the doors opened on the fifty-second floor they were both standing next to each other again, although Patrice's hair was a bit messier than it had been and Brad was looking slightly more rumpled.

"What if someone recognizes us?"

"These are the creme de la creme of society," Patrice said, as they headed towards the maitre'd. " And we're just hockey players. They don't care about us."

The moustached maitre'd gave them a look adjusting his glasses. "Good evening. Do you have reservations tonight, Sirs."

"Yes, under Bergeron," Patrice answered.

The maitre'd looked through the thick book in front of him and it was taking far to long. "I'm sorry, I don't seem to have a reservation under that name."

"What?" Patrice replied. "I booked this months ago."

"I'm sorry sir," Patrice took a step forward but Brad caught his arm.

"It's all right. Thank you. Come on Patrice. I have a better idea."

The maitre'd looked slightly offend that Brad thought there was someplace better they could be and Patrice reluctantly let himself be pulled away. They got back into the elevator.

"Marchy, everywhere is going to be full. I'm sorry." Patrice said.

"I have an idea," Brad repeated. "Give me your keys,"

"Umm what?" Patrice responded.

"Come on," Brad said holding out his hand.

Patrice looked at Brad and then with a sigh handed over his keys.

Half an hour later...

Patrice shook his head at Brad, as Brad ravenously attacked his Big Mac. "I can't believe that you brought me to McDonald's for Valentines Day."

"Come on this is way better than some overpriced stuffy restaurant that doesn't want our business," Brad declared waving a fry in the air.

Before Patrice could respond though, Brad had dropped the fry and was staring across the quiet restaurant. "Ummm, we might have a problem."

Patrice sighed, turning around, expecting to find perhaps their pictures being taken but instead was greeted with a familiar figure sitting dejectedly alone, drinking straight from a bottle of champagne and eating chocolates from a heart-shaped box.

"We should go find out what happened," Patrice sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

Tuukka took another swig from the champagne bottle and just about spit it back out when Marchand and Bergeron dropped into the chairs on the other side of the table.

"Hey Tuukks. Whatcha doing?" Marchand asked.

"Thought you two had reservations," Tuukka raised a eyebrow at them.

"They fell through," Patrice replied. "But we're not here to talk about us."

"I take it Dobby didn't forgive you?" Brad said.

Tuukka snarled at him. "This is your fault."

"How?" Brad demanded.

"You couldn't just leave things alone, could you?" Tuukka answered, taking another swig of champagne.

"I'm sorry..." Brad started.

"Can you just take me home?" Tuukka cut him off.

"Of course," Patrice nodded. "Why don't you two go out to the car. I'll be out in a few."

Tuukka nodded getting to his feet.

Brad followed a bit more reluctantly. "You can't leave me out there with him! I might not survive."

"Stop whining," Patrice rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get him some coffee."

Patrice turned to head to the counter, when Brad stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Brad,"

"Buy me a sundae?" Brad surprised Patrice.

"Really?"

"Please?" Brad blinked at him.

"Make sure that Tuukks makes it out to the car okay?" Patrice said.

"Fine," Brad sighed, he turned and followed after their goalie.

Patrice shook his head and continued to the counter.

                                                              ***************************

"I don't need your help," Tuukka was growling when Patrice reached the car.

"The door is not unlocked yet, so yeah you do," Brad muttered, more to himself than Tuukka. The locks clicked open and Tuukka wasted no time getting into the backseat of the car, slamming the door behind him.

Brad, however, didn't get into the car right away. There had been a thought nibbling away at him, ever since Tuukka had declared it was his fault. The question was though, was it? He could be insistent sure but he was really just trying to help. Had he gone too far?

"What's going through that mind of yours?" Patrice asked, as he leaned next to Brad.

"Is it my fault?" Brad asked his brow furrowed.

"Is what your fault?" Patrice asked.

"Tuukka," Brad said.

"It's not your fault. You were only trying to help. Now stop blaming yourself and let's see if we can't fix this." Patrice said, hand on Brad shoulder.

Brad sighed.

And then a chocolate sundae appeared in his vision.

Brad's eye lit up and he took the sundae.

But before he could get into the car, Patrice pulled him into a kiss.

Which they were rudely interrupted by a thud on the window.

"Not your fault. And I have a plan."

                                                                 ************************

"This isn't my house," Tuukka grumbled as they pulled up to a familiar curb.

"I know," Patrice answered.

"I'm not going in there," Tuukka crossed his arms across his chest, sounding like a petulant child.

"I know," Patrice unbuckled his seat belt. Tuukka huffed.

"I'll be back," Patrice announced, getting out of the car.

"I don't need any help," Tuukka grumbled from the backseat.

"Sure you don't," Brad muttered in return.

There was another annoyed sound from the backseat.

And then silence fell in the car as Patrice headed for the door.

After a few minutes Brad spoke up, "So.... why don't you do Valentines?"

There was a long silence but Brad didn't really expect a answer from the goalie.

But then, "He was my first crush,"

Brad looked at Tuukka in the rear view mirror, afraid that if he turned Tuukka would stop.

"I was young. I thought that...that he felt the same. So I set up a fancy Valentines dinner, went all out,fancy meal, flowers, candles, champagne, everything." Tuukka fell silent again.

"It didn't go well," Brad said softly.

"It did not." Tuukka said. "I...don't want want to talk about it. After that night I swore to never do that again."

"Never do what?" Brad asked.

"Valentines," Tuukka grumbled.

                                                                  *************************

Patrice didn't really have a plan as he headed up to the front door. He just knew that he had to do something here. So with a decisive motion he knocked on the door and waited.

It didn't take long for the door to open.

"So what he sent you to clean up his mess this time?" Anton demanded his arms folded across his chest.

"No," Patrice said. "I've come to fix our mess."

Anton blinked at him, not expecting that response. "What do you mean?"

"We pushed Tuukka into coming here tonight." Patrice said. "We shouldn't have."

"You didn't make him reject me like that in front of the entire team though did you?" Anton asked.

"No," Patrice said. "But you have to remember who you are talking about. Tuukka isn't...he's...he's not like us. He doesn't do sappy. You know that."

Anton stayed quiet.

"But he does know that you do," Patrice continued. "He was willing to go along with our crazy plans and come here tonight to try to change your mind. He was willing to compromise. Maybe you should be willing to do the same."

Anton sighed. "I...I don't know if I can. I mean you're in here trying to convince me instead of him. Does he even want to be with me?"

Patrice didn't know how to answer that.

But was saved from doing so by the front door bursting open.

Tuukka came bursting through the door followed closely by Brad.

"Sorry! I couldn't stop him!" Brad exclaimed.

"You shouldn't have tried to stop me. I should be the one in here explaining not Patrice," Tuukka said, he approached Anton who looked wary.

"I'm sorry," Tuukka said, he took Anton's hands. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Come on, we should go and leave them alone," Brad suggested.

Patrice nodded, draping his arm over Brad's shoulder, wondering what had went on in the car while he was gone.

A couple hours later, Patrice's phone buzzed and he looked down to find a :D from Anton.


End file.
